paint the roses

i have this irrational fear that everyone hates me and everyone who says they like me is lying or is eventually going to hate me or find me annoying 

R.I.P

My aesthetic: sitting at the bar of a 1950s diner wearing knee high socks sipping a strawberry milkshake while three boys cry over me in the booth in the corner

*conveniently forgets that I actually have a lot of stuff to do and waits for the impending panic attacks when it catches up with me on sunday night*

"tea is just leaf water!" "yeah well coffee is just bean water!" wow, it’s. it’s like everything is made of things. this door is just wood rectangle. this poster is just ink paper. this lemonade is just lemon water. wow, it’s like you can combine ingredients to make things that are more enjoyable than the initial parts of the equation. sure is a magical world we live in

The sarcasm in this post is fatal